


Iridescence

by kiichu



Series: Revival Oneshots [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiichu/pseuds/kiichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juzo Sakakura didn't expect to wake up again, and part of him didn't want to at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iridescence

**Author's Note:**

> Juzo Sakakura is alive and well and you can't tell me this didn't happen. I'm totally in denial and I don't even care.
> 
> Written post-episode 9. Before ep11.

There was something so _fragile_ about a man on the verge of death.

Every wheeze, every shudder of failing lungs, every ounce of blood draining from cracks and crevices created on the skin... it was almost poetic how every piece of the body shut down simultaneously, coming to a finale rivaling the greatest symphony. How something once so full of life and vigor could suddenly stop and never start again… it would be fascinating if it wasn’t so terrifying.

Juzo felt his existence drawing to a close, a fitting end for someone so foolishly attached to hope. How pitiful; in the end, despair had gotten the best of them once again. How could he have thought anything to the contrary? How could he have believed in a hope that only cut through him?

How could someone so important in his life slice him down like he was _nothing_?

He didn’t know, and the answer was no longer important. He’d become a corpse soon enough, a sad example of a man blind to the knife sticking plainly out of his back.

* * *

“This way.”

The life had drained from Asahina’s voice, grief stricken through her bubbly personality and leaving a hollow mess in its wake.

“Right.” Mitarai trailed behind, his movements sluggish and the bags under his eyes even more prominent from shedding a few tears.

They were exhausted, but there was something they needed to do, and it echoed in each of their minds as they walked forward.

And though they were going to confront Munakata, it just simply wasn’t the time for hope yet -  much as Naegi wished he could drum up enough to keep him marching on with a skip to his step. No matter how many times it happened, losing someone close to him never got any easier; the pain refused to numb, like novacaine failing to course through his veins. He felt every agonizing second of the loss, almost as if he’d been the one to die, every single time.

Kirigiri was no exception, though she was a special case in that regard. She’d survived with him once before, stuck around against all odds - only to be destroyed by another stupid, pointless game.

Naegi may refuse to fall into despair, but it didn’t mean he felt nothing about her death - or any of his friends’. The loss pulsed deeply in his bones, seconds of pain dragging by into minutes and hours that felt like years and decades and _lifetimes…_

It simply wasn’t something he would get over quickly, _if ever_.

With a deep sigh, the boy turned to his remaining three allies, scanning the droll gray walls and debris for a landmark to map out in his head. He didn’t know the building well, but he must have travelled down this way before, with Asahina and Gekkogahara?

He wasn’t sure. All Naegi knew now was that he had to confront Munakata. If he didn’t, more people would die - he was absolutely sure of that. He didn’t know what had happened to Munakata, as the man had looked absolutely horrible last time they’d crossed paths, but it no longer mattered. Munakata was challenging him, hope against hope, to determine the ultimate outcome of the Future Foundation - and the world, by extension.

And Naegi refused to lose; too much was lost for him to fail now.

“I think we should go this way?” Asahina said, more than a hint of a guess in her voice. She tilted her head, turning to the two boys with an inquisitive look. “I mean… I’m not sure exactly where Munakata is, but I think it’s this way…”

“I-I’m s-sure he’ll find us,” Mitarai pointed out, dread seeping through his tone. “It sounds like he wants to settle a score.” He flashed a hesitant look at Naegi, pale brown eyes wide and unblinking and so very _afraid_.

Naegi absolutely hated seeing that look in another’s eyes. It bordered on despair, and it was his job to protect those around him, to keep them hopeful - even when he wasn’t feeling that hopeful himself.

His fists clenched at his sides tightly, and the boy gave a firm nod. “Munakata wants to end this, one way or another,” he replied, as firmly as he could bring his shaky voice. “And there’s no choice here. Our hope… _must_ prevail. For Kirigiri… for everyone… we have to destroy Munakata’s idea of hope once and for all.” He hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that it wouldn’t destroy Munakata in the process, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. The two knew what they were getting into, and if only one of them walked away alive…

So be it, then.

“Okay, so we turn right here, and then…” Asahina’s voice trailed off as she turned the corner, stopping immediately and growing a bit paler despite her darker complexion.

“Asahina?” Naegi called out, closing the gap between them and peering ahead of her. The sight he found made his stomach churn, a strong sense of trepidation following behind him like a shadow. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his legs wobbling as he forced himself forward, past Asahina and towards what they’d both spotted.

It seemed the sight of blood was _still_ not something he was used to, despite everything; he wasn’t queasy, however, merely unnerved by the amount of reddish pink liquid staining the ground - and who it all belonged to.

“Wh-what? But he- that can’t be-” Mitarai had caught up to them both, his stammers sounding very far away and muffled. Naegi couldn’t form a response, merely dropping to his knees and inspecting the body in front of him.

Juzo Sakakura laid dead, blood dribbling down his chin and two stab wounds through his stomach and shoulder. Kirigiri had told them of what happened with Kizakura and Sakakura, and how Andou had attempted to get him to be her next guard dog with her candies. He’d been impaled through the shoulder with a spear, pinned to a wall until he forced it out with a raw scream.

So one wound’s source was obvious, but the other?

Naegi moved his hands underneath the body to try to adjust the corpse’s position, in order to get a better look. Perhaps this was in memory of Kirigiri and her investigations, as he was no detective - but he was on the curious side. This didn’t look like the attacker’s methods, so who could have been capable of bringing down the boxer?

Just as his hands touched the body, however, he realized it wasn’t yet cold and stiff, and there was a feel to it that shouldn’t be present in any corpse, no matter how long or short it had been dead. This wasn’t the fleeting warmth of a cadaver, but the last desperate attempts of a body to keep itself alive.

“I think he’s-- _Sakakura_? Can you hear me?!” Naegi shook the man gently, noticing the wheezes escaping his bloody lips and the way he flinched ever-so-slightly at the touches. There was no doubt about it, Sakakura was not dead - surely dying and on the verge of death, but alive  _now_ and still able to be saved.

“Wh- he’s _still alive_!?” Mitarai cried out from behind him, still far enough away for Naegi to tell he didn’t intend to get any closer.

Asahina, on the other hand, didn’t have any fear and crouched next to Naegi with eyes wide as saucers. “Are you kidding me?! This guy is a _cockroach_!”

Naegi ignored her and gently turned Sakakura on his back. “Sakakura? You’re gonna be alright. Just hold on.” His words probably weren’t reaching the man, but they made Naegi himself feel slightly better. “Can you help me, Asahina? We need to get his coat off.” The swimmer was much stronger than Naegi, that much was certain; she would be quite helpful in maneuvering the man around so he didn’t aggravate any of his wounds further.

“Y-yeah, but are you sure, Naegi? He might attack us.” Asahina looked hesitant, her hands hovering over Sakakura’s body as though expecting him to jump up and stab them at any moment. To be fair, her fears had more merit than Naegi would’ve liked to admit.

But he _was_ sure that this was what he needed to do. “I’m sure. He won’t attack us, not in this state. We’ll get his coat off and check the wound, and maybe use something to bandage it… If there’s a way to save him, I want to do it.”

He didn’t care that Sakakura hated him, that the boxer had attempted to kill him and his friends - this was no longer an enemy to him, but someone who needed his help and could survive if he was able to do something.

Kirigiri died thanks to Naegi - but Sakakura could be _saved_ because of him.

The words seemed to connect with Asahina, thankfully, and the girl merely nodded and put on a nervous smile. “I trust you, Naegi,” she merely said, and went to work.

It had been difficult to get the heavy jacket off with minimal pain, but their combined efforts prevented Sakakura’s wound from getting any worse, and the man only growled in pain a few times as they adjusted him properly. He was growing paler, however, with his face scrunched up in agony, so there was little time to waste.

The wound that went through his stomach had undoubtedly been a stab, but the look of it was quite different than the one through his shoulder. The area around the hole was reddened, but not bleeding, and looked to have been burned.

_Burned…?_

Where had he seen something burning before…?

“The wound looks… cauterized?” Mitarai observed from afar, his voice trembling. “What could have done that? It would’ve had to have been quick, if the weapon itself didn’t do it…”

A cauterizing weapon. A weapon that burned. The answer hit Naegi like a truck, the weight of what had happened dropping onto him heavily without warning.

 _Munakata_.

“Munakata’s sword,” Naegi murmured, his hands tracing delicately over the hole. “Munakata stabbed him, and the sword cauterized the wound without him noticing. Or maybe he did notice, and just didn’t care.” Why would the man do something like that to his greatest ally? Did Sakakura attack him first? That was unlikely, given the boxer’s devotion to him…

“Why would Munakata stab him?” Asahina echoed Naegi’s thoughts out loud, pity laced in her tone. “Sakakura was… devoted to him, and his hope. So why would he…”

Naegi shook his head. “We can ask him when he wakes up. We need to make sure he _does_ wake up, first.” He immediately took off his jacket, tearing apart the sleeves to create makeshift bandages. Judging by the splatters of liquid all around him, it was clear that Sakakura had lost a lot of blood, and he couldn’t afford to lose anymore.

“Can you lift him?” Naegi requested, and Asahina carefully held up the man’s torso so he could wrap the strips of cloth around him, soaking up the trickling blood. Sakakura gave a shuddering breath as he was moved, a wet cough racking through him as he let out a low whine.

“S-sorry…” Asahina muttered to him, turning to Naegi next. “What are we going to do with him, anyway? We can’t carry him…”

Naegi hadn’t considered it, really, but preparation was never his forte. He always went with his emotional response, and from what the raging nerve-butterflies in his stomach were telling him, this was the right thing to do. There wasn’t any other option to consider; leaving someone to die, even someone like Sakakura, went against everything he stood for.

“I don’t know, but we can’t just leave him,” he said firmly. “I don’t want anyone else to die.” Too many had been killed in this despair-inducing game, and Naegi refused once more to play straight into the mastermind’s hands. There was no part of him that took pleasure in this scene.

Asahina merely nodded, inspecting the spear wound Kirigiri had told them about. “I’ll wrap up this one, too, just in case. Hand me your jacket?”

“Right.” Naegi did just that, his coat now a mess of ripped up fabric strips. “Hang in there,” he whispered to the wounded man, wishing that in some way, he could hear him.

Maybe the hope that burned in Naegi could prove useful to someone like Sakakura.

* * *

The clouds of his mind took their time fading, an unshakeable haziness still hovering over him. There had been nothingness for so long, he almost didn’t register that his consciousness was returning, bringing pain along with it. Yes, the familiar agony - not just the physical wound of his stomach, but the tear through his heart at the betrayal.

Though his memory was still fuzzy, he remembered Munakata’s attack on him with photographic detail, right down to the cold glance the other man had given him before the blade pierced his abdomen.

_But why?_

Munakata expected him to understand, expected him to not let him down once more and stay unknowing of his plans, but Juzo just couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t know why he had to be sacrificed, for he’d done everything for the sake of Munakata’s hope. That hope - _that man_ \- shone brightly, coloring his otherwise gray world with brilliant light and warmth. Without him, there was nothing but emptiness, one of the cruelest sorts of despair Juzo had had the misfortune of experiencing thus far.

Now Munakata wanted him dead, and Juzo couldn’t even do that correctly, judging by the sudden hit of agony that was keeping him very much alive.

_Damn it!_

He swore - no, he _vowed_ that he’d never let that man down again. And here he was, suffering and feeling despair _despite_ declaring Munakata’s hope his life’s purpose.

Some _hope_ ; it couldn’t help him now. But there wasn’t much he could do, as his broken and bleeding body just refused to die. Not that he _welcomed_ death, but the pain was almost too much to bear; it would have been a slight relief for things to cut off.

His body had other plans, of course, as nothing could just go his way for once.

When he cracked open an eye, the first ounce of clarity that slammed into him brought a suffocating feeling along with it. His lungs trembled as they tried to breathe normally, a crushing sensation holding back his breaths and, as a result, making them hitch more in panic. He couldn’t breathe, and if he couldn’t breathe he’d be no good, no good at all to Munakata or the Future Foundation or _anyone_ \--

“H-hey! Hey, it’s okay!” There was a feminine voice nearby, and he wondered for a moment if it was Yukizome. If she survived, that meant Munakata didn’t need to be despairing anymore, and things would get better between them.

But he knew, in the back of his mind, that it wasn’t Yukizome. Never mind the fact that he’d seen her corpse close up, but she wouldn’t bother with a put-down dog like him in favor of her shining knight of hope.

So if it wasn’t Yukizome, who could be speaking? Were they even speaking _to_ him?

Hands wrenched him about, every movement that wasn’t delicate or subtle shooting fresh, biting pain through his body. A few times, he’d heard another agonized noise that sounded too pitiful to have come from him, but he was very certain it did.

 _Stop it!_ He wanted to snap open his eyes, to punch whoever was hurting him to hell, and _stop the pain_ above all else. It cut into him deeply, deeper than the sword that pierced him; the physical hurt swirled with the emotional scars, leaving him a despairing mess.

“Sakakura?” They called his name, but he didn’t feel any comfort from it. If anything, it just made him more frustrated as he tried to convey how much he _hated_ what was happening to him.   

The world was so dark and gray, and continued to spin even as he opened the other eye. It was all a blur, but his head whipped from side to side, stretching torn muscles and causing him to cry out again despite himself. He was no stranger to pain, but the stab had hit some vital spots, or vital enough to make him hurt even after blacking out for so long.

At least… he _assumed_ it had been a while. It could’ve been years and he wouldn’t know the difference, really.

“You’re alright! Just calm down.” There was a hint of annoyance in the voice, which just made him all the more confused and angry. His body felt heavy, detached from his mind, as the world around him _finally_ dragged into focus.

He was laying on his back, a much different position compared to how he’d fallen. From the way the coldness of the floor bit into his arms, it seemed his coat was off and he was left in just the t-shirt he wore underneath it. His breathing was still labored, and his abdomen felt… tighter, somehow. The same tightness was wrapped around his shoulder, and he was able to move his head enough to examine the source of that constriction.

Fabric was tied around his shoulder in a bandage-like fashion, clearly intended to soak up any blood leftover from the spear wound. That one wasn’t the problem, though - it wasn’t what nearly killed him.

“Sakakura? Can you hear me?” Another voice sounded, this one deeper but still young. His eyes trailed in its direction, attempting to catch sight of who was speaking to him. The world was still blurry around the edges of his vision, but he managed to scope out the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

Of fucking course.

“Makoto Naegi,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken as he tried to sound threatening. It didn’t work, though, as Naegi only moved closer to him and crouched down, a bewildering sort of look reflecting in his eyes. Why the hell did he look _concerned_?

“Ah… I’m glad you’ve finally awoken. We managed to stop the bleeding, but we couldn’t be sure you’d ever wake up.” A gentle smile crossed the boy’s face, the unmistakeable kindness in his tone just puzzling Sakakura further. “What hurts? We’ll do what we can.”

Juzo attempted to move once more, only to feel his stomach protest with a sharp sting; it seemed he was almost completely immobilized for the time being, forced to chat with his greatest enemy against his will. Like a _prisoner_ , he reflected.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he hissed, eyes narrowing to a glare.

“Eh? What did _Naegi_ do to you?” The feminine voice returned, and Aoi Asahina appeared next to Naegi with puffed-out cheeks and a leer of her own. “He was the one to suggest we save your sorry life, y’know! I think a _thank you_ would be nice!”

Juzo quirked a brow, casting a glance over to Naegi to confirm. The boy nodded shyly, nervously glancing back at him.

“Why?” Juzo asked, honestly lost to why someone like him would do that. Didn’t Naegi know he _only_ believed in Munakata’s hope? “I’ve tried to kill you. Munakata - he’s wanted you all dead.” Just saying the name makes his heart nearly drop to his stomach, the pain of the betrayal still fresh and pulsing in him.

Naegi’s gaze fell, and he hesitated before responding. “It seems he wanted you dead, too.” His words weren’t gloating or condescending, nor did they hold the sickening fakeness of pity. They were just… honest, and a clear window to what the speaker was feeling. The boy sounded saddened by what he said, true as it may have been. “I’m sorry, Sakakura. Why… why would he do that to you?”

Anger pulsed through him; despite the understanding tone, the words made Juzo want to drive his fist into the kid’s face. More than anything, he wanted to _hurt_ Makoto Naegi, because hurt was _all_ Juzo was feeling, and sharing it with his enemy was only fair, right?

But no, there were reasons other than his NG Code and his injury that stopped him from lashing out. Getting angry would serve no purpose here, especially since _Naegi_ hadn’t been the one to do anything to him.

“I don’t know,” the boxer ground out, his breaths shaking again as he tried to sit up once more, hissing in pain as he fell back down. Asahina helped him lift himself up to lean against the wall, and almost instantly he felt it easier to breathe. Though he couldn’t get a deep sigh completely yet, he was able to take longer breaths without feeling as though he’d pass out.

“W-weren’t you his ally? Why would he…” A third voice came from nearby, this one small and pathetic and belonging to - no surprise - Ryouta Mitarai, who was doing little more than cowering in the corner nearby.

Juzo grimaced, both in pain and to intimidate him. The kid stayed far enough away, though, so he tried to ignore his presence at the moment. “ _I don’t know_ ,” he growled once more, to reiterate the ache that coursed through him. “Munakata… I’ve always been there to help him, to believe in his hope. Guess that was my mistake.”

Funny, though, dedicating himself to Munakata still didn’t seem like a mistake to Juzo. He’d do it all over again if he had the chance, even if their ending didn’t change. Munakata brought the most color to Juzo’s world, and now without him it felt monochromatic and desolate. Even if he ended up a sacrifice for the rest of the world to be saved… well, wouldn’t it be worth it to see Munakata shine like Juzo knew he could?

Though he was sure of his resolve, Juzo felt reluctant to accept his status as a sacrificial lamb. Munakata had said himself that he and Yukizome were the most important to him, that because of them he was able to reach such great heights. So why throw Juzo away like he was _nothing_?

Yukizome once said she’d gladly die for Munakata. If only she knew Juzo almost ended up doing just that for him.

He let out a longer sigh than he was used to, coughing a bit as his lungs grew used to more air. _How pathetic_ , he scorned himself, _to be stuck like this_. His fists tightened and he lowered his head in shame. “He said I knew why he did it. But… I don’t. I really don’t.”

Munakata assumed he’d know why he was being slain, but Juzo just couldn’t understand.

“So he just… did away with you? Just like that?” Asahina’s voice was quieter than before, an almost mournful tone to her words. “After all you’d done for him?”

“Asahina… I think he understands what happened. We don’t need to remind him,” Naegi replied, biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, clearly unaware of what else to say.

Juzo scoffed. “I don’t need you to be _sorry_. I don’t need you all to _pity_ or to _help_ me. I just need...” He paused, his voice breaking off as he grew silent, his labored breaths the only sounds in the lonely hallway.

What _did_ he need? What step could he possibly take from here on? Without his hope, where would Juzo go? There was nowhere, and for the first time in a long while, he felt aimless and lost. “...I don’t know what I need,” he finally admitted quietly.

Naegi nodded in understanding. The boy seated himself nearby, but not too close to give the boxer some space. How _considerate_ , Juzo thought with the slightest hint of a sneer.

“My hope isn’t as bright as Munakata’s, I don’t think…” Naegi murmured, “but I’m trying. I’m trying to shine, even if I falter or doubt at times.”

Juzo merely stared at him, waiting for him to continue. The world seemed to steady a bit more, the dizzying sensation coming to a halt.

The boy’s fists balled up tightly and his expression grew very serious. “Kirigiri… the last words she spoke to me were full of hope and… optimism. She didn’t want my hope to fade away, or fall to despair. She wanted it to light the world.”

So the detective had been killed, as well. Juzo wondered how long he’d been blacked out; casting a quick glance to his bracelet showed that he’d been drugged for the fourth sleep cycle, and there was still hours to go before the next. He’d just have to endure the pain until then, he supposed.

“And where are you going now?” he asked, dragging his gaze from each of the three nearby. “What will you do to Munakata?”

It floored him that he still cared, despite being so useless as he was now, but he couldn’t help it. Then again, his loyalty to the man was never something that startled him, as it was one of the only stable sentiments in his life. Despite being tough and able to fight his problems with fists, there were few things Juzo was sure of nowadays.

His name was Juzo Sakakura, he was a boxing champion, and Munakata was the most important person to him. Anything other than those facts were blurred when it came to where he stood.

But now, his bond with Munakata had shattered, and nothing would be the same. For whatever reason, the man wanted him dead, but Juzo still couldn’t ever hope for the opposite scenario. Out of the two of them, the correct one was in pain on the floor now.

Naegi gently placed a hand on Juzo’s shoulder, and he found himself unwilling to brush it off so quickly. “We’re going to find out whose hope will prevail. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him if I can help it.” He drew his lips to a soft smile, bright brown eyes suddenly looking so damn _colorful_. “Will you let us take you with us? I want you to survive, Sakakura, if only to find your own hope someday.”

The fact that his enemy cared so much about his well-being was a bit jarring, but Juzo didn’t reject the idea immediately. Though he wanted to believe in Munakata’s hope still, after what happened, he found himself unable to. But to avoid despair, he had to create his own - Makoto Naegi understood that, and wasn’t forcing his own onto Juzo.

It seemed that hope was something everyone discovered differently.

“Yeah,” he said, not offering much else to his response. “I’ll go with you.” He didn’t have much of a choice, but with Makoto Naegi, he dared to feel a tiny bit safer than he would’ve had he been alone.

As Asahina helped him up, the pain from the wound still pulsed as a reminder of his failures, but it wasn’t as aching as before. The wound would scar, and he’d remember exactly what happened every time he looked upon it.

It still hurt, but there was nothing he could do now. He had to bear it, like every other wound.

They began to step forward, Juzo stumbling a few times, but eventually he could move a bit easier. Asahina held him steady as they walked, and he only used her support when he needed it.

He was still on guard, of course, as he was at his most vulnerable in front of people who could destroy him even more. He was already in shards on the ground, but Naegi could step on them, crumble them further into nothingness.

But some tiny part of him trusted that the kid wouldn’t. It was the same tiny part that had grown to love the life Munakata brought to his world.

As they continued onwards, Juzo stared at the back of Naegi with slight awe. The space around the boy had suddenly grown more colorful, marking the path as they marched to whatever their fates with Munakata would be.

Things were a bit brighter. Maybe Naegi’s light _could_ spread to illuminate the world - or, at least, what remained of Juzo’s world.


End file.
